


Dormant

by Lokisgame



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Episode: s02e09 Firewalker, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Sharing a Bed, X-Files OctoberFicFest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-04
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-25 05:37:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16191176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokisgame/pseuds/Lokisgame
Summary: Perhaps she was healing, but did anyone care if Mulder did, too?





	Dormant

It's not that he hasn't been touched in years, hasn't felt the warmth of someone else's skin on his. It's something in her that touches him, like those movie visions of people tripping on acid, when moving hands seem to leave light trails in passing. Her hand lands on his side and a second later, her soul catches up and flows straight through to his heart. There's something primal in another human's touch, instinctive reassurance, that someone wants to be close enough. Sometimes, the walls people talk about are figurative, and sometimes, someone comes and tears them all down. He didn't pull her into his arms, but closed his eyes and let go of everything but. 

She got up in the middle of the night, nature and coffee waking her up instead of vague dreams of blinding white light. Her dreams were too bright these days, but tonight, she slept, almost calm. She knew going back to work would help, it always got better when she got back on the horse again.  
Walking past Mulder's door, a noise made her stop, restless keening, a thump on the sorry plaster and cardboard excuse for a wall. Dark corridor concealed her hand, turning the doorknob.  
"Scully," he breathed, tortured and desperate, sleep-running through some dreadful dreamscape. Hands gripping the sheet, she heard him panting, writhing restlessly beneath sheets. "Scully!" Whisper of terror, re-living a memory.  
She knelt by the bed and in the faintest glow saw tears staining the pillow, fresh one falling of a cliff, the bridge of his nose. Pain stabbed her chest, too sharp to ignore, too bright to name.  
"Mulder," she whispered, running her fingers through his sleep tousled hair, a silent call speaking louder than words. _Come back to me._  
His breath caught, eyes flew open and focused on her, three inches away. He sagged on the pillow, body finally relaxed; she knew the feeling all to well. Her hand never stopped soothing away darkness. Mulder rubbed at his eyes and felt them wet.  
"What happened?" He asked, tone implying the case.  
"Nothing, I just heard you, when I walked past." She felt him nod.  
"It's just a dream." Dismissive, a lame excuse. Perhaps she was healing, but did anyone care if Mulder did, too?  
"Tell me." She sat on the floor, never taking her hand away.  
"Fog, dark woods, then bright light." He paused, cleared his throat, curled a bit tighter into a ball.  
"You were running." She said, hand stroking again, reassurance.  
"Never fast enough." He was looking away, but she saw the tear, heard the steadying breath.  
Folding one arm on the edge of the mattress, she rested her chin on it, combing through his hair gently, letting her body speak before she did.  
"I'm here Mulder," she whispered once his eyes closed, never breaking the rhythm. "I'm right here."  
She felt the shift, body tensing, scooting back wordlessly. It was her choice, but it wasn't one she hasn't made already. Climbing into bed in time it took to turn the wet pillow over, they laid down, facing each other, her hand stroking again.  
Somewhere beneath them a restless volcano stirred, but here, Mulder's bare skin radiated heat on the spectrum wavelength of sleep and she felt it spread, relaxing her body. She let her hand still, control melting away slowly, only one finger left, stroking his cheek.  
Last thing she remembered was Mulder falling asleep, stretched out on his front, her hand rising and falling with his measured breathing.


End file.
